


Guivre

by rusty_armour



Series: Sanctuary [4]
Category: Robin of Sherwood (TV 1984)
Genre: Adventure, Episode: e01 Robin of Sherwood: The Knights of the Apocalypse, Gen, Some Humor, Swordfighting, enemies to frenemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21786352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusty_armour/pseuds/rusty_armour
Summary: While living and working on a farm in Poitou, Loxley and Gisburne encounter the legend of Melusine and have a strange adventure in the woods.
Series: Sanctuary [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/898572
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Guivre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grondfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/gifts).



> This is a sequel to [Many More Miles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859888) and an _extremely_ late birthday present for [Grondfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/pseuds/Grondfic). It’s so late, in fact, that it’s more of a Christmas present than a birthday present. *g* Anywaaaaaaaay, this fic probably won’t make much sense if you haven’t read the first three stories in the [Sanctuary](https://archiveofourown.org/series/898572) series.
> 
> I should probably point out that there’s a fair amount of French spoken in this story. I’ve provided footnotes for any French that isn’t entirely clear from the context. The English translations are at the end of each scene containing such footnotes.
> 
> This takes place after [The Knights of the Apocalypse](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robin_of_Sherwood:_The_Knights_Of_The_Apocalypse).
> 
> **Disclaimer** : This story is based on Richard Carpenter's series _Robin of Sherwood_. The characters are the property of Richard Carpenter, Robin May, Anthony Horowitz and the RoS production team. This is also based on “The Knights of the Apocalypse” audio adventure, which was based on an original script by Richard Carpenter, directed by Robert Young and produced by Barnaby Eaton-Jones, not to mention the novel written by Jonathan Green.
> 
> The marvelous cover art for this story was created by raven714. You can find more of her beautiful RoS artwork and fanvids [here](http://raven714.livejournal.com).
> 
> * * *

Loxley gritted his teeth as he wove a particularly unwieldy twig into the upright branches of the wattle fence. It had been some time since he’d made any winter repairs in a village. The last time would have been during his final winter in Sherwood when he and his friends had helped repair huts in Wickham and Elsdon. Now, instead of seeing Marion’s laughing eyes as he struggled with the wattle fence, he was met by the dark, inquisitive eyes of a French peasant girl, aged twelve.

Melisende regarded both Loxley and Gisburne as objects of curiosity. She seemed fascinated by their ability to speak another language, even though Loxley often struggled to produce a coherent sentence in French. But Melisende was quick and clever. In the time that Loxley and Gisburne had been living on the farm, she had been absorbing English faster than a sponge soaking up water. She had startled Gisburne the day before when she had asked him – in English – why he could speak better French than Loxley.

Melisende should have returned to the woods to fetch more twigs and branches, or to help her younger brother, Marcoul, gather acorns, but she had stayed behind to help Loxley with the fence and to ask him endless questions. Did they build fences differently in England? Is that why he found it so difficult to repair this one? Were villages in England very different from the ones in Poitou? While Melisende, with her dark hair and short stature, hardly resembled Marion, she did share Marion’s sharp wit and fearless spirit.

“We build fences the same way in England,” Loxley said. “I suppose I’ve just never been very good at building them. And the villages in England are not that different from this one.”

“‘This one’?” Melisende asked. “Quel est ‘this one’?”

Sometimes Loxley marvelled at the words Melisende couldn’t understand when she seemed to pick up difficult words so quickly. “Um...” Loxley couldn’t remember the correct words in French, if he had ever learned them. “Votre village. English villages are not very different from French villages.”

“Ah, oui,” Melisende said, sounding a bit disappointed.

Loxley smiled and picked up another twig from the pile that Melisende had dumped at his feet. He had enjoyed his time on the farm. Gervese and his wife, Anceline, were good people. They didn’t have much, but they’d been willing to share what they did have with two strangers – and two English strangers at that. Loxley had tried to offer Gervese money a few times, but Gervese had said that as long as they worked they would have a place to stay. Even Gisburne, who was unaccustomed to such work, seemed more relaxed. Loxley thought that even a man like Gisburne could appreciate such necessities as food and shelter, especially after those two nights they had spent in a cold, cramped cave near the Loire.

“Loxley!”

Loxley cursed under his breath as the twig in his hands snapped. Loxley looked up from his work to see Gisburne rushing towards them. Gisburne had been in the woods chopping wood with some of the villagers. Loxley stood at once, debating whether he had time to fetch their belongings or if he should just go straight to the horses.

“Who is it?” Loxley asked once Gisburne was within earshot. “De Guillevenen? De Sancerre? How close are they? How many men?”

Gisburne was bent over double, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “It’s not...the Knights...of the Apocalypse.”

“Then what is it? You ran out of those woods like a man possessed.”

Gisburne leaned on the fence as if he was in dire need of its support. “A-a dragon. I saw a dragon.”

Loxley stared at Gisburne, thinking he must have misheard him. “A dragon?”

Melisende tugged Loxley’s sleeve. “Dragon?”

“Une guivre,” Gisburne said. “Une grande guivre.”

Melisende’s brow furrowed. “Une guivre comme...” She growled, lifting her arms above her head and curling her fingers like talons.

Gisburne nodded vigorously, pointing excitedly at Melisende. “Yes, it sounded just like that, only deeper, and it was more like a roar than a growl.”

“Guy,” Loxley said, “you do realize that what you’re saying is utterly ridiculous, don’t you?”

“I _saw_ it.”

“A dragon?”

“Yes!”

“In the woods?”

“Well, of course it was in the woods. Where else would you expect to find a dragon?”

Loxley closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “There is no such thing as dragons.”

Gisburne glared at Loxley. “I know that. I _knew_ that before today, before I saw....saw it. You believe in forest gods and women who can turn into horses. Why shouldn’t dragons exist?”

Loxley couldn’t believe it. He might have laughed if Gisburne didn’t sound so serious. “Describe it to me. What did this dragon look like?”

“Well, it made a loud, hissing sound,” Gisburne said. “I heard this hissing sound before flames burst through the trees.”

Loxley raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you certain it wasn’t an actual fire? One of the villagers might have – ”

Gisburne shook his head. “I saw a tail.”

“A tail?”

Gisburne blushed. “Yes, a-a dragon’s tail. And don’t ask me if it might have been a snake because the tail was barbed.”

Loxley sighed and wondered if he would need to find a physician. That was when he heard a commotion in the distance and caught sight of a group of villagers running from the woods in much the same way Gisburne had. “Oh, surely not...”

Melisende tilted her head, listening to the terrified voices of the men as they drew closer. “They see the dragon too. They say it will-will...détruire the village and...and...”

“Kill us all,” Gisburne said. He seemed calmer now, almost as if he were resigned to his fate. Loxley thought that he preferred it when Gisburne was in a state of panic.

Loxley grasped Gisburne’s arm and drew him towards the approaching villagers. “Ask them what they saw. I want to know if they saw the same thing you did.”

As it happened, Gisburne didn’t have to ask the men a single question. They surrounded him as soon as they spotted him. They wanted to know if he had also seen the dragon, and they had their own stories to tell.

“Henri says that he heard the dragon’s wings flapping, while Hubert, Marc and Estienne swear they felt the ground shake as the dragon stomped through the woods,” Gisburne said.

“Yes, but did they actually _see_ anything?” Loxley asked.

Gisburne frowned. “I already told you that I saw the tail, and there had to be a head or it wouldn’t have been able to hiss or breathe fire.”

“Yes, all right,” Loxley said.

“Then you believe I saw a dragon?”

Loxley grimaced. “I believe that you saw something, but I refuse to believe that it was a dragon.”

Gisburne crossed his arms and scowled. “Well, if it wasn’t a dragon then what do you think it was?”

“I don’t know,” Loxley said. “That’s why I need to go into the woods and search for this dragon myself.”

As Loxley walked through the woods, he could hear the branches of the oak trees creaking in the wind and the sound of his footfalls in the blanket of snow that sparkled in the sunlight. The woods seemed far too tranquil to be inhabited by a dragon, not that Loxley knew what an appropriate place for a dragon would be.

Loxley had been wondering why the villagers had been so quick to assume that what they had encountered was a dragon when they appeared to have observed even less than Gisburne. Had there been sightings of this so-called dragon before? Is that what had caused the villagers to believe in such nonsense? Loxley knew how quickly such stories could spread. Did these men think that they had come across a dragon because they had been told that one lived in the woods? But that didn’t account for Gisburne, Loxley thought, unless he had also heard the stories and had chosen not to share them. Then Loxley remembered Melisende. She had seemed surprised, and even doubtful, when she had heard about the dragon. Loxley was certain that Melisende would have spoken of the dragon if she believed it was real.

Loxley didn’t realize that that someone was following him until a sharp wind blew his hair into his face and obscured his vision. When he stopped to sweep the strands from his eyes, he heard movement in the snow some distance behind him. Loxley knew it wasn’t an animal foraging for food but boots crunching in the snow. Loxley suspected that it might be Melisende, but he wished he had his sword all the same. He turned and waited, taken aback when the figure in the distance was taller than Melisende and a man instead of a child. Then he recognized who it was.

“What are you doing here, Gisburne?”

“Looking for bluebells. What do you think?”

Loxley held back a sigh as Gisburne approached him. “I thought you might be Melisende.”

Gisburne rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not the little girl who is mooning over you.”

“Jealous?”

“No, of course not.” Gisburne was eyeing his surroundings, and Loxley assumed that he was searching for his dragon until Gisburne opened his mouth again. “My axe has gone missing. I can’t remember if I dropped it or left it on the ground when I saw the...um...”

“I’ll help you find it,” Loxley said. “I should have asked you to come with me in the first place. I’d like to know where you were when you saw this dragon. I’ve been trying to follow everyone’s footprints in the snow, but I’m not sure what I’m seeing because so many people have been walking from the village to the woods and back again.”

It didn’t take them long to reach the clearing where Gisburne had been chopping wood. Gisburne quickly found his axe, which was lying on the ground.

“You were working here when you saw your dragon?” Loxley asked.

Gisburne brushed snow off the axe haft. “It’s not _my_ dragon, and I heard it before I saw it. There was a rumble, like thunder, and then a hissing sound. I turned, wondering what on earth it could be.”

“You turned? Then where did the noises come from?” Loxley spun around, trying to recreate Gisburne’s actions. “Whatever you heard and saw must have been behind this thicket.” He walked across the clearing. Gisburne stuck his axe in a tree trunk and followed.

Walking through the pine trees, Loxley discovered a trail and crouched in the snow to search for tracks. However, the only tracks he found were footprints, hoofprints and cart ruts. Loxley wished he had Nasir’s gift for woodcraft, though he suspected that even Nasir might have trouble deciphering the meaning of the tracks.

“Well, I can’t see any sign of your dragon, unless your dragon travelled on wheels,” Loxley said.

Gisburne’s brow creased as he studied the impressions that had been made in the snow. “I don’t understand. It was snowing only an hour ago. How can these tracks be here? None of the villagers were using a cart.”

“And the tracks aren’t coming from the village.” Loxley rose from his haunches. “You’re sure that this is where you saw the dragon?”

“Yes, I know it was,” Gisburne said.

“Then I suggest we follow the tracks back to where they did come from.”

“What good will that do?”

“It might give us some answers.”

They continued along the trail and deeper into the woods. Gisburne was peering through the trees as if he was expecting the dragon to reappear. “What do you think I saw if it wasn’t a dragon?” he asked.

“I think it’s a trick and someone is trying to frighten the villagers,” Loxley said.

Gisburne glanced at Loxley in surprise. “Why would someone want to scare the villagers?”

“To keep people out of the woods, I should think.”

“But why?” Gisburne asked.

Loxley’s gaze returned to the tracks in the snow. “Perhaps someone is trying to hide something.”

“It must be important for someone to go to so much trouble, but I can’t imagine...”

Loxley raised his eyes from the ground, wondering why Gisburne had stopped speaking so abruptly. Then he noticed the singed branches of the pine tree. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“Oh, really? And what would that be?”

Before Loxley had a chance to respond, there was a low rumbling sound followed by a booming roar that had both Gisburne and Loxley starting violently in fright.

“Get into the trees,” Loxley said, seizing Gisburne’s arm and dragging him off the trail. He lay flat on the ground, pulling Gisburne down with him.

“But the dragon, the flames – ”

“Be quiet or they’ll hear us.”

“They?”

Loxley placed a finger to his lips and shook his head, though he suspected that no one would hear them over the loud reverberation. Gisburne actually remained silent, but this may have been because he was too distracted by the passing procession to speak.

Travelling along the trail were four men accompanying a wagon. The men were transporting a set of bellows and a brazier, which both appeared to be propped up on a large wooden box. One man was holding the horse’s bridle, while another man was standing on the wagon operating the bellows. There was a third man sitting on the back of the wagon, but Loxley couldn’t make out what he was doing. The fourth man seemed to be carrying a sheet of metal in one hand while dragging a long misshapen lump with the other. Loxley suspected that the misshapen lump was meant to be the dragon’s tail. He clamped a hand over Gisburne’s mouth, only removing it once he was sure that the wagon had made it a safe distance from them.

“I’ll kill them,” Gisburne said. “And then I’ll kill you.”

“That will have to wait. We need to find out what they’re up to.” Loxley crawled out from under a pine tree, brushing snow and needles from his clothing. “At least you know what it is now. You should be happy that it’s not a dragon.”

“I suppose.” Gisburne didn’t look or sound convinced, but he followed Loxley back to the trail all the same.

“You weren’t the only one they fooled,” Loxley said. “You must have seen how high I jumped when we heard that roar.”

Gisburne swatted irritably at an overhanging branch. “But you knew it wasn’t a dragon, while I let that stupid story get the better of me.”

“What story is that?” Loxley asked.

“Oh, apparently a man from the village claimed to have seen a dragon in these woods. Henri thought the man must have been drunk at the time because the dragon of Poitou is only ever seen in Poitiers.”

Loxley frowned. “Henri believes that there’s a dragon in Poitiers?”

“Oh, they all do,” Gisburne said. “It’s this legend of Melusine nonsense. You must know the story. Melusine was a fairy exiled from Avalon. Every Saturday, she would turn into a serpent from the waist down. When Raymondin of Poitou met her in a forest and fell in love with her, Melusine only agreed to marry him if she could be left alone every Saturday. However, one Saturday, one of Raymondin’s brothers decided to spy on Melusine when she was bathing and discovered her secret.” Gisburne ducked under a second branch. “When Raymondin confronted Melusine, she wept, turned into a dragon, and flew away. It is said that whenever there is a new Lord of Lusignan, Melusine flies over the castle.”

Loxley was silent for a moment, lost in thought. “Is this a well known tale in Poitou?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, I should think so. Mothers probably tell the story to their children. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think the men that we just saw are relying on this story to make the people in these parts believe that a dragon could exist and that such a dragon might even be Melusine herself. It would certainly prevent most people from venturing too far into the woods, wouldn’t you say?”

Loxley and Gisburne had only walked about two miles before the tracks led them to a large clearing. Not wishing to be discovered, Loxley slipped behind some pine trees, pulling Gisburne with him. Peering through some branches, Loxley could see a ramshackle hut with a roof that looked like it was about to cave in on itself. There was also a barn within the clearing that seemed to be in better condition than the hut, despite the rotting wood.

There was no sign of the men who had accompanied the wagon. While the wagon ruts were leading to the barn, the footprints indicated that men had gone to both the barn and the hut. If Loxley had been with John, Will or Nasir, he might have sent one of them to spy on the hut while he explored the barn, but he didn’t know if he could trust Gisburne not to give them away. If Gisburne spotted one of the men, he might lunge at him in fury.

“I want to see if they’re hiding anything inside that barn,” Loxley said, “but I don’t want to run across any of our friends – not yet, anyway.”

Gisburne’s eyes narrowed. “And you expect me to keep watch?”

“I’m asking you to keep watch, yes. You can keep an eye on both the barn and the hut from here.”

“And what am I supposed to do if I see someone? Attack him with a tree branch?” Gisburne sighed. “I knew I should have brought the axe.”

Loxley rolled his eyes. “Look, if you see anyone just signal to me. Can you coo like a dove?”

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“Well, then try hooting like an owl instead. Anyone can do that.” Loxley cupped his hands around his mouth and hooted softly. “Now you do it.”

Gisburne sighed again. “All right.” He lifted his hands to his lips, but the noise that he emitted sounded nothing like an owl. Loxley yanked Gisburne further behind the pine trees as two men emerged from the hut and gazed wildly around the clearing. Eventually, they returned to the hut when they found that nothing was amiss.

“You sounded like a wounded ox,” Loxley said. Then he dissolved into a fit of laughter and had to bite his arm to muffle the sound.

“God’s blood,” Gisburne muttered.

A short time later, Loxley was gnawing at his lip, trying to hold in the laughter. “Don’t ever do that again,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning to!”

Loxley cleared his throat, wiping some tears from his cheeks. “I should really thank you. Your...um...signal revealed that everyone is in the hut.”

“How do you know that?” Gisburne asked.

“Because if anyone had been in the barn, they would have stuck their heads out to see where the noise was coming from.” Loxley clapped Gisburne on the back. “Come on, you’d better come with me.” It wasn’t until he had taken a few steps towards the barn that he realized he was walking alone. Gisburne was sitting in the snow pulling needles off a pine branch. “Why are you just sitting there?”

Gisburne barely looked up. “You don’t want me to come with you, and I obviously can’t keep watch. What else do you expect me to do?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m sorry I laughed at you. You’re a knight, not an outlaw. I shouldn’t have expected you to know how to hoot like an owl. We all laughed the first time John tried to make a bird call.”

Gisburne scowled. “You don’t need to apologize. Just go. You said no one was there, so it should be safe enough.”

“Gisburne, I wasn’t being kind when I asked for your help. I really do need it.” Loxley lost patience when Gisburne still wouldn’t budge. “Fine. Sit there and catch cold or go back to the village. If you do go back, be sure to remember your axe. You might need it if you come across another dragon.

The horse that Loxley had seen earlier stood in a stall inside the barn. She was chewing on some hay and barely seemed to notice the stranger who had entered the barn. Loxley first spotted the wagon and then the bellows and brazier that had been used to create the fire the dragon had spewed. The sheet of metal that he had seen was propped up against one wagon wheel. The metal wobbled and made a low rumbling sound as soon as Loxley attempted to lift it, so he quickly set it down again. The noise from the sheet of metal combined with the rumble of the wagon wheels would create an ominous din. Examining the bellows, Loxley decided that the dragon’s hiss must have occurred each time the bellows were pumped. But how had they created that terrifying roar?

Loxley had walked past the fiddle twice before he thought to pick it up, and, even then, he couldn’t understand why it was lying inside the wagon. Loxley ran his fingers over the strings and then grimaced in disgust when he discovered that the strings were covered in a sticky substance that smelled like pine. He hastily wiped his hands and looked up to see if the barn’s roof was leaking. It was only when Loxley lowered his gaze again that he observed the brown glove that was nearly hidden in the darkness of the barn. It too was covered in the same resin as the strings of the fiddle.

Loxley placed the glove on his hand and lifted the fiddle again. He plucked one of the strings gently, using the gloved hand, and the fiddle keened, producing a low grating note. He imagined that if several notes were played at once, the sound might be mistaken for a roar. Loxley didn’t know much about music, but he did know that both the glove and that substance had altered the sound of the strings.

Loxley was so preoccupied with his examination of the fiddle that he didn’t hear the pair of boots in the snow. He didn’t even have time to put down the fiddle before the barn doors opened. He was momentarily blinded by the sunlight and didn’t recognize the figure at first.

“You have to get out of here,” Gisburne said. “One of the men is coming to fetch the horse.”

Loxley placed the fiddle back in the wagon before he and Gisburne left the barn and took cover in a copse of trees. They had only just disappeared from sight when they saw a man enter the barn. He was brawny with a copper beard and a girth that was almost twice that of either Loxley or Gisburne.

“That’s Laurence,” Gisburne whispered. “He was told to meet a man named L'Hernault and collect the money.”

Loxley’s eyebrows rose. “Money?”

“That’s what I heard – or thought I heard. I could only hear them because they were standing outside the hut.”

“It seems you helped me after all,” Loxley said. “Thank you for the warning.”

Gisburne’s eyes were on the barn rather than Loxley. “If those men had caught you, they might have searched the area and found me as well.”

Loxley smiled. “Well, thank you all the same.”

“At least I have some use,” Gisburne grumbled, “even if it’s just as a nursemaid.”

“Gisburne – ”

“Quiet. Laurence is coming out of the barn.”

Loxley and Gisburne stood still and silent as Laurence led the horse out of the barn. Laurence adjusted the saddle girth before mounting the horse and riding out of the clearing.

“Whatever they’re hiding isn’t in the barn, so it must be in the hut,” Loxley said. “I need to take a look inside.”

“What are you planning to do?” Gisburne asked. “Walk in through the door?”

“No, I won’t need to do that.” Loxley moved slowly and carefully towards the hut, removing his dagger from his belt. It was only when Loxley began to cut a small hole in the daub wall that Gisburne understood the purpose of the dagger.

“What will you do if you see this treasure they’re hiding?” Gisburne whispered. “You won’t get it through that tiny hole.”

Satisfied with his work, Loxley peeked inside the hut. “You’re right. Their treasure won’t fit through this hole. What’s more, I don’t think she’d be happy if we tried.”

“What?” Gisburne placed one eye against the hole and nearly started in surprise. A young woman, who appeared to be thoroughly bored, was seated on a stool near the fire. Her red-gold hair had come loose from its plaits but, in all other respects, she was every inch a noblewoman. She wore a silk burgundy gown with a fur-trimmed cloak. “That scum,” Gisburne said. “They should all be hanged for daring to abduct a lady.”

Loxley grabbed Gisburne’s arm and yanked him away from the hole, fearing the men inside the hut might hear him.

“What are you doing?” Gisburne asked. “We need to go in there and rescue the lady.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, our swords are back at the village, and there are four men in that hut who are most likely armed,” Loxley said. “I say we return tonight with some of the villagers and take them by surprise.”

“But the lady...”

“Will probably still be here, even if Laurence did ride out to collect all or part of the ransom.”

“What if they decide to kill her?”

Loxley shook his head. “After all the trouble they went to creating a dragon to keep the villagers away? It seems like a lot of work if they’re simply planning to kill her. They could have done that at the very beginning rather than hiding her in the woods. Besides, her father isn’t likely to pay the ransom if he doesn’t have some assurance that she’s still alive and well.” Loxley patted Gisburne on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You can be the one to ride in on your horse to rescue her.”

Gisburne snorted. “The peasant knight.”

“I don’t think she’ll complain if you’re willing to rescue her,” Loxley said, but then he frowned, looking pensive. It was an expression that Gisburne was beginning to know well.

“What is it?” Gisburne asked.

“She wasn’t bound. Both her hands and feet appeared to be free, and they hadn’t tied or chained her to anything.”

“There wasn’t anything in that hut they could tie her to, was there? Besides, there were men guarding her. She couldn’t escape without them knowing. And where could she go, even if she did escape? I wouldn’t think she knows these woods or where the nearest village or town might be.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” Loxley cast another look at the hut before turning to walk out of the clearing. “It’s time we returned to the village. If a noblewoman has disappeared, Gervese and the others must have heard something about it.”

Loxley stared at Gisburne, flabbergasted. “They know nothing of this lady? Nothing at all?”

Loxley and Gisburne were sitting before the fire in Gervese’s hut. Gervese and Anceline had listened patiently to the description of the lady in the woods, but they hadn’t been able to provide any information.

“Perhaps her family is trying to keep it quiet or the abductors insisted on secrecy,” Gisburne said.

Gervese had glanced from Loxley to Gisburne, first surprised by Loxley’s reaction and then confused by the exchange in English. He looked beseechingly at his wife as if she might have the answer. Anceline shushed Melisende and Marcoul, who had started arguing over whether Marcoul was cheating at knucklebones. “Que s'est-il passé?” she asked.

Gisburne told Gervese and Anceline about everything they had experienced in the woods, with Loxley filling in details where he could.

“Ils sont morts de peste,”1 Gervese said.

Loxley looked at Gisburne. “What is ‘peste’? Plague?” Gisburne nodded. “Qui est mort de peste?”

Gervese sighed and scratched the stubble on one cheek. “La famile qui vivait à la ferme.”2

Anceline made the sign of the cross. “Maintenant, aucun des villageois n’ira près de la ferme.”3

“I don’t blame them,” Gisburne muttered. “She says that – ”

“Yes, I understood,” Loxley said. “None of the villagers will go near the farm. We may have trouble convincing them to help us.”

Gisburne gave Loxley an uncharacteristic smile. “I’ll persuade them.”

Loxley’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t threaten them.”

“I have no intention of threatening them,” Gisburne said. “I shouldn’t need to.”

The French was spoken too quickly for Loxley to understand every word, but he didn’t hear anything that sounded like a threat. What Loxley thought he heard was a bribe. His suspicion was confirmed when he saw a glint in Gervese’s eyes before the couple rushed out of the hut.

Gisburne made no attempt to hide his smugness. “See? They’re going to ask the villagers to help us, and I didn’t have to threaten them at all.”

“No, you only had to offer them money,” Loxley said. “Money from the lady’s family, I assume.”

“Well, I certainly can’t afford to pay them. I’m sure the family will offer some reward for her safe return.”

Loxley fought to hide a smile. “I’m surprised you don’t want the money for yourself, Gisburne.”

“Ah, well I didn’t tell Gervese how much money there would be,” Gisburne said. “I don’t see why we couldn’t keep some of it for ourselves.”

“ _If_ there’s a reward, it should go to the villagers. They need it more than we do.” Loxley stared into the flames of the fire, thinking about the elaborate planning that had gone into the abduction. “They must have added the dragon as a precaution in case the farm’s history wasn’t enough to keep the villagers away.”

“Unless they didn’t know what happened to the family that lived there.”

“No, I think at least one of them knew – perhaps the man who planned the abduction in the first place.” Loxley turned away from the fire to face Gisburne. “That farm must have been chosen because these men know that the villagers try to avoid it. I think the dragon was meant to frighten away any villagers who ventured too close, villagers who might spot the smoke from a fire or smell the horse in the barn.”

“Well, their so-called dragon won’t be frightening anyone else,” Gisburne said.

Loxley smiled again. “And it won’t be enough to keep us away.”

1 _They died of plague_.

2 _The family living on the farm_.

3 _Now, none of the villagers will go near the farm_.

They started off with twelve volunteers to mount the rescue, but the number dwindled down to five when the villagers learned that Loxley wanted them to go into the woods at night. Despite the incentive of a reward and assurances that the dragon wasn’t real, some of the men just couldn’t be swayed. At least Gervese’s courage hadn’t wavered, and he seemed determined to accompany them into the woods. Loxley was grateful for Gervese’s presence as Gervese was a natural leader who the other villagers seemed to trust.

It was a cold night, but the stars were bright, and Estienne carried a torch to light the way. Loxley glanced back at Gisburne, who was riding behind them. Although the path was narrow in places and the ground was uneven, Gisburne seemed to handle his horse effortlessly. Loxley hoped Gisburne would be equally successful riding back through the woods without the light from a torch and with a lady sharing his saddle. Gisburne wasn’t accustomed to such terrain, but he was an excellent rider and he spoke French much better than Loxley did. It seemed unlikely that the lady spoke any English, and she would probably be suspicious of a rescuer who looked more like a peasant than a knight. Gisburne might have to do a lot of talking to convince her.

Just before they reached the farm, Loxley fell back a bit so that he could speak to Gisburne. “Wait until we’ve drawn out the men before you ride in. We’ll do our best to keep them distracted and give you time to get the girl to safety.”

Gisburne gave a quick nod. “I’ll ride back once the lady is safe.”

“No, stay with her,” Loxley said. “If any of the abductors escape, they might go after her. If they knew about the farm, they must know about the village.”

“All right. Good luck, Loxley.”

“You as well,” Loxley said. He quickened his pace and caught up with the villagers, who had started discussing how to attack the farm. The men were enthusiastic, if misguided. Loxley had enough French to explain the need for stealth, though his explanation required a number of gestures. Fortunately, Gervese seemed to understand what Loxley was saying and supported his plan.

“The barn,” Loxley said. “La grange.” He beckoned to the villagers to follow. “Viens avec moi.”1 

Loxley approached the barn as stealthily as he could, keeping within the trees and moving along the periphery of the farm. He tried not to wince at the amount of noise the villagers were making, but it would have been worse if they had walked straight across the clearing to the barn. Estienne had doused his torch, but the moon was bright enough to guide their way. Even in the barn, moonlight flowed through cracks in the walls. When they entered, Gervese went straight to the stall to calm the horse, while Loxley walked over to the wagon.

Loxley had decided some hours ago that the same dragon that guarded the lady could aid them in her rescue. He was certain that if anything could wake the men in the hut, it would be the roar of their dragon. Loxley picked up the fiddle and the glove and showed them to the villagers. He wanted them to understand how the dragon had roared when they had heard it in the woods and to warn them that he was about to make it roar again.

“Ceux-ci ont été utilises pour faire le guivre...”2 Loxley didn’t know the word for “roar,” so he followed Melisende’s example and made the sound himself. “Je vais faire le bruit à nouveau pour...”3 Loxley needed to warn the others that at least one of the abductors would come to the barn after hearing the noise. Gervese turned from the horse as if recognizing Loxley’s quandary.

“Le bruit va alerter les hommes dans la cabane. Nous devons être prêts pour eux.”4

“Merci,” Loxley said, shooting Gervese a look of gratitude. He then placed the glove on his hand and began plucking at the strings of the fiddle. Henri and Denis started violently, while François grimaced and clamped his hands over his ears. Gervese simply grinned and shook his head.

Despite the noise of the fiddle, they soon heard raised voices outside. Loxley set down the fiddle and listened closely. He could now make out the sound of boots in the snow. Loxley dashed to the doors, motioning to Gervese to follow. He pressed himself on one side of the doors and indicated to Gervese that he should stand on the other. There was a loud creak as the doors opened, and a shadow fell across the threshold. That was when Loxley and Gervese leapt on the man. Naturally, it was Laurence, the burly man with the copper hair who was twice the size of any of them.

Loxley was able to keep a firm grip on Laurence by jumping on his back and throwing his arms around Laurence’s shoulders, but Gervese was knocked to the ground when he wasn’t quick enough to duck Laurence’s fist. François and Denis ran forward, their own fists flying. Fearing that they would be overpowered as well, Loxley released his hold on Laurence and hit him on the back of the head with his sword hilt. Laurence fell to his knees before pitching forward onto the ground.

“Trouvez de la corde,” Loxley said. “Vite, vite!” 5

None of the villagers could find any rope, but Henri offered Loxley his belt. Loxley drew Laurence’s arms behind his back and bound his wrists. It was while Loxley was tightening the belt that Gervese groaned and started to regain consciousness.

“Est-ce que vous allez bien?”6 Loxley asked as Henri helped Gervese to his feet.

Gervese nodded then winced. “Oui.”

As they made their way towards the hut, Loxley didn’t worry about the noise the villagers were making. The men who had remained in the hut would still be awake and awaiting Laurence’s return. They would know that the dragon hadn’t roared on its own and would be anticipating trouble of some sort. Indeed, Loxley and the villagers had barely made it halfway across the clearing when Loxley saw light from a lantern, and four of the abductors appeared. Only one man wielded a sword, but Loxley was certain that the other men were also carrying weapons. As the villagers were farmers and not trained soldiers, they carried pitchforks and rakes.

Loxley and Gisburne had given the villagers a quick lesson on how to parry blows and dodge sword thrusts. As Loxley didn’t want any of the villagers to be killed, he had told them that they only needed to occupy the abductors long enough to provide Gisburne with enough time to rescue the lady. Once the lady was safe, they should break off from the fight and return to the village. Loxley hoped the villagers would remember what he’d said and make no attempts to be heroic.

Loxley sought out the man with the sword, a man with fair hair and eyes that shone like silver pennies in the lantern’s light. Loxley realized that his opponent was a skilled fighter when the man deftly parried his thrust. In fact, Loxley was willing to bet that the man was a soldier, possibly even a knight. Fortunately, this man’s accomplices seemed to lack his skill, though they were still more than a match for the villagers. From the corner of his eye, Loxley saw one of the abductors swing a mace at François.

“Guy!” Loxley shouted, but Gisburne was already riding towards them.

Gisburne’s appearance momentarily distracted Estienne who was thrown to the ground. As Gisburne rode past, he wounded the man standing over Estienne and only just missed colliding with Henri. When Gisburne reached the hut, he dismounted his horse and barged through the door. Then there were raised voices and a howl before Gisburne was leaving the hut, the lady’s hand in his.

As Loxley was facing the hut, he could see the lady clearly and was surprised by how reluctant she seemed to be rescued. Loxley was even more startled when the lady cast one desperate look at the man he was fighting before she allowed Gisburne to lift her onto his horse.

“Fernand!” the lady cried as Gisburne urged his horse forward.

Loxley’s opponent whirled around, and Loxley took advantage of the other man’s lapse in concentration. He kicked the back of Fernand’s right knee then placed his sword at Fernand’s throat as Fernand slumped in the snow.

“Lâche ton épée,”7 Loxley said.

Fernand sighed and set down his sword.

One of the abductors, who had been trying to wrest Denis’ pitchfork from him, froze when he saw that Fernand had been forced to surrender. Denis punched the man in the face. The last of the abductors was running for the barn. Loxley assumed that he was planning to escape on horseback.

“Je connais cet homme. C’est Fernand.”8 Gervese was standing before Loxley, staring down at Fernand in wonder. Gervese told Loxley that Fernand had been the son of the blacksmith, but he had never seemed happy at the forge. No one had been particularly surprised when Fernand had disappeared from the village, though no one had known where he had gone or what had become of him. Loxley suspected that, whatever had happened, Fernand had formed some sort of attachment to the lady he’d abducted. If the anguished look on the lady’s face was anything to go by, the two of them were in love.

“Êtes-vous amoureux de la dame?”9 Loxley asked.

Fernand smiled but said nothing.

Loxley spent several minutes trying to get Fernand to talk, but his efforts were in vain. Loxley was equally unsuccessful with Fernand’s accomplices, who also insisted on keeping silent. Only one man would speak, the man Gisburne had wounded. But this man only seemed interested in placing the blame on Fernand. It had all been Fernand’s idea, his plan.

Frustrated, Loxley was thinking that it might be time to return to the village with their prisoners when he thought he heard someone calling his name. However, it was a high-pitched voice, like that of a child’s.

“Melisende?” Gervese said, sounding more confused than alarmed.

Robin listened carefully. He could hear a horse approaching, its hooves striking loudly in the snow. The horse snorted as it came into view, as if to say that it would have preferred to stay in a warm stable instead of being out on a cold night. Loxley’s brow furrowed. Was that Gisburne’s horse?

“Robin!”

Loxley stared up in amazement. Melisende was sitting on Gisburne’s horse, the abducted lady riding behind her.

“Melisende!” Gervese cried, running up to the horse. Loxley grabbed Gervese’s arm and held him back. The lady had just raised a dagger and had placed it at Melisende’s throat.

1 _Come with me_.

2 _These were used to make the dragon_...

3 _I will make the noise again for_...

4 _The noise will alert the men in the hut. We must be ready for them_.

5 _Find rope. Quick, quick!_

6 _Are you all right?_

7 _Drop your sword_.

8 _I know this man. It's Fernand_.

9 _Are you in love with the lady?_

“Free the girl and we’ll talk,” Loxley said, before realizing that he’d spoken these words in English and had to repeat them in French.

Melisende, who seemed oblivious to the dagger, excitedly babbled out her story to Loxley. “I also wanted to fight and help the lady, but I was...perdu...lost in the woods.”

“Soyez silencieux,”1 the lady said.

Melisende ignored the lady. “I see Guy’s horse, but Guy was not there. This...this bad girl takes me and – ”

The lady pressed the dagger closer to Melisende’s throat, and Melisende stopped talked.

“Qu'est-ce que vous voulez?”2 Loxley asked.

The lady’s eyes flew to Fernand, who was sitting bound in the snow, and Loxley could see what she wanted. Fernand was shaking his head, telling the lady that she shouldn’t have returned.

“Nous avons besoin de l'argent,”3 the lady said.

Money? Did she mean the ransom, Loxley wondered. He had his answer when Fernand told the lady to forget the ransom. He told her that she should flee and forget him. It wasn’t too late for her to return to her father.

Loxley grew increasingly bewildered as he listened to the exchange. How could the lady hope to collect the ransom money if she was the one who had been abducted? Then Loxley understood. The lady hadn’t been abducted. She only wanted it to appear that she had been taken hostage. She and Fernand had arranged the whole plan to obtain money from her father. The lady had never been in any danger, but men had risked their lives to save her.

Anger rising, Loxley walked over to the horse, seized the lady by the waist, and hauled her to the ground. The lady was so startled that she didn’t resist when Loxley pried the dagger from her hand. Even in the moonlight, Loxley could see the blood.

“Where is the man who tried to rescue you?” Loxley asked. “Did you kill him before stealing his horse?”

The lady had started struggling, and Loxley barely missed being elbowed in the ribs. “Je ne parle pas anglais.”4

“Où est-il?”5 Loxley shouted.

The lady managed to break free, but she tripped over her cloak and fell in the snow.

“Robin, someone is coming, I think,” Melisende said. She had been lifted from the horse by Gervese, who had an arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “Yes, I hear a horse. It is Guy maybe.”

Loxley thought that was highly unlikely, but he could hear a horse coming towards them. It was difficult to make out the horse, but the lady sitting at Loxley’s feet seemed to know the rider’s identity, even before he called out to them. Robin snatched the lady’s arm before she could run off. The rider was looking for Lady Amicie de Mortagne and seemed certain that she could be found somewhere in the woods.

“Qui es-tu?”6 Loxley asked, pushing the lady down on her knees when she kicked him in the shin and nearly escaped again. Then Loxley almost released his hold when it was Gisburne who answered his question.

“He’s Clément L'Hernault, steward to Reynaud de Mortagne, who has the misfortune to be that bitch’s father.”

As the horse drew up, Loxley could see that there were two riders. L’Hernault rode in front, his cloak billowing in the wind. He practically leapt off his horse when he caught sight of Amicie, only staying put when he noticed that Gisburne needed help dismounting. As his feet hit the ground, Gisburne gritted his teeth as if he were in pain. That was when Loxley saw the makeshift bandage had been wrapped around his shoulder.

“What happened?” Loxley asked.

Gisburne glared at Amicie de Mortagne. “She took my dagger from my belt and stabbed me in the shoulder. I tried to stay in the saddle, but she pushed me off my horse. L'Hernault found me and treated my wound. I guided him here when I found out who he was and why he was here. I thought you’d be able to help us find Lady Amicie. I wasn’t expecting her to be here already.”

“None of it was real,” Loxley said. “Lady Amicie pretended to be abducted. I believe she was going to use the ransom to run off with her lover.” Loxley jerked his chin at Fernand. “That man there. Fernand used to live in the village. I think it was his idea to use this farm as a hideout and resurrect the legend of Melusine.”

Loxley glanced at L'Hernault, who was now standing beside Gisburne and looking down at Amicie with an expression of disappointment on his face. Loxley didn’t know if L'Hernault had understood any of their exchange, but he had a feeling that L'Hernault didn’t need to speak English to work out that Amicie had lied to her father. At a nod from L'Hernault, Loxley pulled Amicie to her feet. He noticed that Amicie wouldn’t meet L'Hernault’s eyes, even when he was standing directly in front of her. Loxley walked away from the two of them to join Gisburne, who was looking over his horse.

“I assume that L'Hernault was sent to deliver the ransom,” Loxley said.

“Yes, that was who Laurence was meeting earlier. L'Hernault refused to give him the money unless Lady Amicie was delivered safely to him.” Gisburne stepped away from his horse as his horse tried to nuzzle him. “If Lady Amicie wanted the money for herself how did she hope to collect it if L'Hernault was insisting on her safe deliverance before the ransom was paid?”

“Perhaps Amicie hoped to slip away from L'Hernault and rejoin Fernand,” Loxley said.

Gisburne frowned. “But how could she trust him? What was to stop Fernand from running off with the money?”

Loxley looked at Fernand, who was gazing mournfully at Amicie. “I expect that she trusted in his love. He seems completely besotted with her.”

1 _Be quiet_.

2 _What do you want?_

3 _We need the money_.

4 _I do not speak English_.

5  _Where is he?_

6 _Who are you?_

Gisburne’s face was grey by the time they made it back to the village. Anceline took one look at him and guided him to a bench at the table. Wine brought some colour back to Gisburne’s cheeks and seemed to dull the pain in his shoulder. When Anceline removed the bandage and tore through the back of Gisburne’s shirt, Loxley saw that the wound wasn’t too wide or deep, but it would require stitches. As Anceline went to fetch needle and thread, Gisburne laid his head on his folded arms and closed his eyes. Loxley watched Gisburne from the other side of the table. Gisburne appeared to be drifting off, so Loxley was startled when he spoke.

“All of our efforts were for nothing,” Gisburne said.

“I wouldn’t say that. L'Hernault said that he would tell de Mortagne that the villagers helped him find Amicie. They might still gain a reward.”

“I’m amazed that none of them were killed,” Gisburne muttered. He barely seemed to notice when Anceline returned and sat beside him on the bench, though Loxley saw him jerk slightly when Anceline started to stitch his wound.

“I felt sorry for Fernand when Amicie decided to return to her father,” Loxley said.

Gisburne opened his eyes. “Are you surprised?”

“L'Hernault gave Amicie a choice. He said that if she wanted to go off with Fernand, he wouldn’t stop her.”

“Only because he knew she wouldn’t do it.” Gisburne grimaced in what might have been a smirk if it hadn’t been for the pain of Anceline’s needle. “She wasn’t going to give up the money after everything she went through trying to acquire it.”

“Not even for love?” Loxley asked.

“It wouldn’t have been enough,” Gisburne said. “Not for a woman like her. She stabbed me, Loxley. She stabbed me when I was trying to rescue her _and_ she stole my horse.”

Loxley had to bite his lip for an instant to keep from laughing. “True enough.” He watched the firelight flicker against the walls of the hut, reflecting on the events of the day. “I think you’d better stay out of the woods for a while to avoid any further adventures. Who knows how many other dragons might be lurking in Poitou?”


End file.
